Helen's Boy
by CooperGirlHH
Summary: Helen Pevensie loves her children dearly - but does that mean she always knows and does what's right for them? When it comes to her second-born son, Helen is not so sure ... movie-based family fic. Set just after the events of LWW. Companion piece to At Odds and The Letter


**Helen's Boy**

 **Summary:** Helen Pevensie loves her children dearly - but does that mean she always knows and does what's right for them? When it comes to her second-born son, Helen is not so sure ...

 **Author's notes:** This can be seen as another companion piece to my story _**At Odds**_ , only this takes place after LWW and and is told, like _**The Letter**_ , from Helen Pevensie's POV. Like all of my fics I'd say this is more movie-based than book-based but I'm trying to keep it in line with the books as well if I can ...

I learned that in the books Mrs. Pevensie's given name is never mentioned. Well, I decided like most ff writers to go with Helen and I'll stick to it :)

You'll find a few more author's notes for the story at the end of it.

This was edited by the lovely Lydwina Marie - many thanks for taking the time!

Enjoy the story ...

XXX

Early in September Helen Pevensie stood at the train station among dozens of mothers waiting for their children to arrive back home from evacuation. The air raids had recently come to a close, and the new school term was about to start, so many families would only have their children back for a few days before they would yet again have to leave for boarding school.

In Helen's case it would be Peter and Susan, her two eldest, who would be leaving again in a week's time. Edmund, her third, was almost eleven – old enough to go to boarding school as well, but he attended a local institution. Helen's father had suggested that school because he thought that Edmund needed a stricter hand than his siblings and had thus found one which claimed to take care of – as they called it – _difficult children_. To be able to attend classes there Helen had had to take him out of his old school and away from his friends. She hadn't liked it but without her husband – who was a soldier fighting in the war – to back her up, it was almost impossible for her to go against her father's will.

A noise, faint at first but quickly growing louder, announced the train's arrival. Ten minutes later the platform was crowded with children bustling about, trying to find their parents. Helen strained her neck, looking out for a familiar blond head among the crowd. Peter was the tallest of her children – she had by far the best chances to find all four of them if she concentrated on looking out for him. When she finally spotted him he was only just making his way out of the train carriage. He noticed her at once and a bright smile lit up his face. He waved a hand at her, calling out, "Mum – over here!"

Helen was a tall, yet slightly built, woman, but she managed to push her way through the crowd towards Peter with the strength of a mother who longed for her children. As she had expected Peter didn't throw himself right at her – instead he was busy moving his and his sibling's suitcases out of the train. He handed them, one by one, down, all the while beaming at Helen, who took the luggage from him. Then he turned around again and disappeared back into the carriage. When he came out he was holding an excited Lucy by the arms, who very nearly flung herself into the gap between the platform and the train as she tried to scramble down and into her mother's open arms.

Once she had Lucy tucked safely in her arms, Helen simply lifted her youngest daughter into the air; only for a moment, though. Even little Lucy was getting too big for this – and if Helen was not mistaken, she had grown quite a bit while she was away.

Lucy was clearly reluctant to let go of her mother. Even after Helen had put her down, she held on to her middle tightly. "Mummy," she sobbed, "Mummy... we missed you so –"

"Let go, Lucy, it's my time now." That was Susan and she gently pulled her little sister from their mother's arm to hug Helen herself. After pulling her elder daughter close for several minutes Helen finally loosened the embrace and held Susan's at arm's length. Had she just forgotten, or never really appreciated, just how pretty her eldest daughter was? Or had she even become prettier in the last couple of weeks? Helen couldn't say for sure, but it was having her back was what counted, anyway. She placed another wet kiss on Susan's forehead and turned her attention to her sons.

After his sisters had greeted their mother, Peter finally allowed himself to accept Helen's welcoming attention. Him, too, she looked over – with no less pride than Susan. Like Lucy, he had definitely grown in the past weeks, she could see that from the way his shirt sleeves and trouser legs seemed slightly too short on him. She also wondered if he had become a little wider around the shoulders – even at thirteen Peter was lucky to gain muscle weight easily (a property inherited from his father), and if the weeks out in the country had offered him the chance for some sufficient exercise, Helen wouldn't be surprised if he had put on a few pounds.

When standing behind his tall, broad-shouldered brother, Edmund disappeared from sight; he had inherited his mother's slighter build and at ten he was much smaller than thirteen-year-old Peter. But as the elder stepped aside, Helen was positively surprised to notice that her second son had grown a bit as well. Feeling anxious, Helen finally wrapped her younger boy into her arms, half expecting him to push her away, or become stiff and tense at her touch. But instead he returned the gesture, relaxing into her arms. Later, when Helen looked him over critically, she was glad to see that he, too, looked well and healthy. In fact, she thought that he looked better than he had before leaving – healthier, actually, than he had seemed in months. The frailty he had had about him before leaving was now no longer present, and there was a lovely tinge to his cheeks.

Tears of happiness clouded Helen's vision as she finally shooed them all towards the exit, watching in delight as Lucy's hand snuck into Peter's as they walked (Peter was carrying both their suitcases). Susan had laid a gentle arm around Edmund's shoulders – which he didn't shrug off – and they were following their siblings with their mother close on their heels.

Over the next days, Helen noticed that there was an unusually peaceful atmosphere between her children. Not even Edmund got himself into a frenzy over nothing, as he used to only a few weeks ago. Instead he was unusually even-tempered, and he completely refrained from picking a fight, even with Peter. Helen often found the boys laughing together, joking around and teasing each other good-naturedly. It was so endearing that Helen soon began dreading the time when the new school term would start and separate them. On top of it all, she couldn't help wondering if returning to the school her younger son disliked so heartily might change him for the worse again.

Her worries were not unfounded as she realised one night, when she woke up to a sore throat and got out of bed to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen. To her surprise, she found Edmund curled up on one of the two armchairs that stood by the living room window. He had spread his robe over his legs, using it as a blanket. The reading light was on and his nose was stuck in a thick book, a collection of Sherlock Holmes stories, as she noticed.

He looked up when he heard Helen come in. "Mum?"

"Yes dear, it's me," said Helen. She went to him and bent down to kiss his forehead. "Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Edmund pulled a face. "I couldn't sleep. Peter's snoring," he said.

Knowing fully well that this was not the case, Helen forgot about her glass of water and sat down opposite her son in the other armchair. She regarded him silently for a moment, then asked gently, "is something bothering you?"

The fact that she didn't receive an answer gave it away. She could practically see Edmund battling with himself and trying to sort out what to say to her – if anything at all. He had always been rather reluctant to open up, even to her, if something was bothering him. When, as expected, he remained silent Helen pressed on, "has your grandfather said something that's troubling you?"

Edmund shrugged as she brought up his grandfather. He avoided her eyes, looking out of the window with the book in his lap closed but one hand still holding on to the page he had just read.

It was the most likely explanation; Helen's father had spent the evening with the children while she had been at work. Since the children had returned there had been least two times when he had come over, and afterwards he had always complained to her about his younger grandson and granddaughter. His usual complaints were that Edmund was being picky about his food again and Lucy was in general a baby and would have a hard time growing up.

"What did he say?" Helen asked.

Letting out a sigh, Edmund finally offered a very vague, "just ... stuff ..."

"What kind of stuff, Edmund?"

But he pressed his lips together and yet again didn't reply, instead staring intently at the raindrops that poured down the window outside. After a while, however, he finally turned to look his mother in the eye. "Mum, why can't I go to the same school as Peter?"

Surprised at the change of topic, Helen was lost for an answer and all she could think of doing was to shake her head.

"Is it only because Grandfather says so?"

"Well, he ... I mean, no. I just ..." She sighed. "I don't think Peter's school would be suitable for you."

"But I don't want to go back to my school," said Edmund, pouting. "Bugger grandfather and his ideas about education."

"Edmund!" Helen reprimanded, but in a gentle voice. "Watch your words."

He still pouted, looking out of the window again. "Are you punishing me?" he finally got out, very quietly.

"What?"

"Are you punishing me by making me go back there?"

"No, Edmund," Helen hurried to say. "What do you think you would need to be punished for?"

"For being an inconvenience," he blurted out, taking her completely aback.

"An inconvenience?" Her forehead creased in confusion. "To whom?"

"To you and Dad. Grandfather said that –" Realising that he had let slip more than he had actually meant to, Edmund interrupted himself, biting his lip. But there was nothing for it now but to get through with it, and he knew it. "Grandfather ... well, he said that we – me and Lucy – are a burden to you ... he said, you shouldn't have had us ... two children to feed were quite enough."

So _that_ was what her father had said to him? She couldn't believe it. How _dare_ he?

She bit back a sigh, knowing that Edmund might misinterpret it as some sort of confirmation that his suspicions were correct. In truth it was just that the thought of standing up against her father made her feel weary. But it had come to the point where she would have to draw the line and tell her father off for what he said and did. However, after almost forty years of experience with him she knew that she would need some time before she could muster the courage to approach him. Especially if she had to do so without Colin, her husband.

But at the moment, it was more important to get that ridiculous idea out of her son's head.

"Edmund," she said softly, "neither you nor Lucy are a burden to us. I know your grandfather sometimes says terrible things when he's angry. But you mustn't believe him if he gets carried away, saying things he doesn't mean. You and Lucy are not an inconvenience, to neither me nor Dad."

Pulling a face, Edmund was looking at her, pain still visible in his dark eyes. "Okay, Mum..."

He looked so vulnerable, and she wanted to comfort him, but as so often she didn't know if he would let her. Hesitantly, she suggested, "I suppose … you're too old now to come and sit on my lap for a minute? What with being eleven next week –"

He gave a little shrug. "Maybe ... maybe tonight I'm not," he said and slipped out of the armchair to come over and to climb into her lap – something he had not done in a very long time. Helen was aware that it was an exception – her son had never been very demonstrative, but tonight he was in need of comfort. As she wrapped her arms around him, she was determined to hold on for as long as she could. The moment would be over soon enough.

As she sat cuddling him, she decided that it was time to see what she could do about the whole school affair.

"You know what?" she whispered into his ear. "If you keep up your good behaviour, I will probably be able to do something about the school when the next summer term comes up. Just promise me to behave until then, will you?"

"So I really must go back?"

"I am sorry, darling," she said sadly. "But for the winter term I don't see any other way. If your reports are good, though, we will find another school for you. I'll talk to your Granddad about it." She half-heartedly expected him to become angry, but instead he just seemed disappointed.

"Promise, Mum?"

"I promise," Helen said and tightened her arms around him.

X

She regretted her decision six weeks later as she sat in the physician's office watching as Dr. Johnson examined Edmund. Her son was sitting, shirt off, lean shoulders hunched, on the stool behind the doctor's desk. His torso was mottled with bruises and scrapes and his right shoulder was stiff and looking rather immobile. He hissed and became very pale when the doctor touched it.

"Well, the shoulder is dislocated," said Dr. Johnson.

"Can you do something about it?" asked Helen. Her conscience had been nagging at her ever since the headmaster had phoned and asked her to fetch Edmund from school.

Her son had been in a fight, but as Headmaster Sheppard had assured her, he had not been the one to start it. As it seemed, he had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, ending up as a rather convenient target for a group of bullies, all of them older and bigger than he was.

Helen wondered, how regularly the headmaster was confronted with this kind of incident.

However, Edmund had kept his promise and had done his best to behave as well as he could – Headmaster Sheppard had emphatically confirmed that. In fact, Edmund must have tried so hard to behave that he had barely fought back to defend himself. Not that he would have stood a chance against the group of bigger boys, but she would have expected him to at least try. The fact that he hadn't bothered her a lot more than she let on.

Over the past weeks Helen had noticed how her younger son's well-being had been suffering from returning to that cursed school. As he sat before her now, bruised and thin and looking very frail again, Helen felt her stomach tighten.

Dr Johnson's hands were still lying on Edmund's small shoulder. "I can set it," he said slowly, "but –" he hesitated a moment, then with a quick movement of both of his hands on the joint and a sickening sound, accompanied by a yelp of pain from Edmund, he finally said, "it a painful affair."

"Is it done?" asked Helen, the sounds still ringing in her ears.

Dr. Johnson nodded. "The scrapes and bruises will heal on their own." He turned to his young patient. "Edmund, why don't you do me a favour and go to the reception desk to see if nurse Emma has a treat for you? I need to have a word with your mother."

Nurse Emma did always have a treat for the children who came to see the doctor, but those were self-made, very dry biscuits that were not exactly on Edmund's top list of food. Helen knew he was more likely to slip it into his pocket when Emma wasn't looking than to eat it. But she had no doubt that he would obediently go and ask for it, and then sit in the waiting room until his mum was ready to leave.

Sure enough, Edmund, who was still much too pale after the pain of having his shoulder set, nodded quietly and slipped off the stool. Helen handed him his shirt and jumper which he pulled over his head. He waited until she had smoothed out his hair before he left the room. She stared at the door for a moment, yet again amazed at how much her son's attitude had changed.

Dr. Johnson cleared his throat, wordlessly asking for her attention. "Helen," he finally said, using her given name as he did every time he had something serious to discuss with her. "We need to talk."

She nodded.

"To be honest, I am very worried about Edmund," said the doctor. "I mean, apart from the obvious. The dislocated shoulder might have been some sort of accident, due to a fight at school. But there's more. He seems withdrawn, don't you think? The last time you came in with him, he argued with me over everything I asked him to do."

Again, Helen nodded. "He came back from the countryside as a different person. I tried to get it out of him, what happened. He let something slip about having a had a strange dream. He wouldn't go into details. So I asked Peter if he knew anything about it, but he became all closed up as well. He just said that Edmund had learned a lesson that he won't ever forget."

The doctor raised an eyebrow at that. "A dream? A lesson?" He shook his head doubtfully. "Let's face it, Helen. I think your son might be suffering from a mild depression."

"Depression?"

The doctor nodded sympathetically. "Haven't you mentioned that his grandfather - your father - often gives him a hard time? Edmund might have reached his breaking point."

"No," said Helen, resolutely. "No, I don't think so."

The doctor gave her a long look, kneading his chin thoughtfully. "How about his appetite? Is he eating enough? He's quite thin."

Silently Helen nodded, thinking of Nurse Emma's treat, most likely to have ended up in Edmund's pocket. But it was a matter they had discussed before, when her son had been much younger, and not likely to be the latest consequence of a depression.

If truth be told, Edmund had always been picky about his food, stubbornly refusing it if it wasn't what he wanted. In his younger years, Helen had made the mistake of letting her son get her so worried over his well-being that she would put up different rules for him than for his siblings; including allowing him cake or biscuits for dinner or even sweets (if she could find any in the pantry). She knew she had spoilt him by doing so, involuntarily rewarding his stubbornness, but she hadn't cared if it meant getting some food into him.

It was quite possible that this had helped bringing her father up against the boy.

"He was perfectly fine some weeks ago," she insisted. "When the children came back from the Professor's house ... it's only since Edmund is back at school ... I don't know ... it seems like he is going downhill – I'm just glad that his attitude hasn't changed for worse again."

"But it might," said Dr. Johnson, "don't you think? If you keep him at that school?"

"Well, he did ask me the other day if not he could go to the same school as Peter."

"But that's really a good idea, isn't it?"

Helen sighed. "I don't know ... it's a boarding school. He'd be out of my sight for a whole term ... and they focus a lot on physical education – including lots of sports competition."

"Well, it might do Edmund good to be challenged. It might help building his confidence," said the doctor, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm not sure ... what if he can't keep up with the other boys?"

"Why wouldn't he, with a little training? He is quite agile – you never know what he might be able to achieve. Besides, the increased workout should also help with the appetite."

Helen was still not quite convinced. "But he's always suffered from being in Peter's shadow ..."

"Peter's three years older – they wouldn't compete against each other but against boys of their own age, wouldn't they?"

"I'll have to think about it," said Helen as she got up from her chair and made to leave. The arguments the physician had posed were well worth thinking about, but right now she couldn't dwell on them. It was high time she got home, making sure to be there before Lucy was back from school. She said good-bye and thank you to the physician and went to find her son.

As expected, he was sitting patiently in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting area. When they left, Helen saw Nurse Emma wink at him with a smile.

"Has Emma given you one of those biscuits again?" asked Helen as they walked down the quiet lane towards home – and sure enough Edmund reached into his trousers to pick an unappealing-looking something from his pocket. The look of it made Helen think that at least half of its original size must have crumbled into his pocket. She would have a hard time later on when she would have to clean it out.

Nonetheless she smiled and asked, "Share it with me?"

With a shrug, he broke it in two, losing another third of it which fell to the ground and broke to pieces. He held out one little bit to her, and the rest he put back into his pocket before she could stop him. But once she put the little piece he had given her into her mouth, she knew why he was so reluctant to eat it; it tasted like a dry nothing. It even seemed to become bigger instead of smaller while she chewed. Helen couldn't help letting a giggle escape at how ridiculously unappetising the thing was. Edmund looked at her with some surprise, but then he joined in with a snicker of his own – and soon they were both laughing together.

It was that moment when Helen made her decision.

X

Helen got off the train and took a moment to accustom herself to the unfamiliar surroundings. The school, as she knew, was just a few minutes' walk away from the station. She thought of asking somebody for directions, but then she realised that she likely wasn't the only mother who had traveled here to pick up her children from boarding school. She would just have to follow the small crowd.

Twenty minutes later she had indeed found her way to the Newton Institute For Boys. It was a lovely, old, yet well-tended complex of buildings, surrounded by several training grounds which were suitable for all kinds of sports from tennis to soccer or rugby.

A couple of days ago she had received a telegram from Headmaster Collins who had asked her to come up and have a conversation with him about how her boys were developing. If convenient to her, he had suggested she come at the very end of the term and travel back to London together with her sons. At first, Helen had been worried. She was still debating whether it had been the right decision to send her younger son to join his brother here (her father hadn't ceased to try and tell her she was making a mistake).

Collins turned out to be a kind person. He was a man in his fifties, with very short, greying hair. He was about her height and wiry, his handshake a little stronger than she found comfortable. "I am glad you could make it, Mrs. Pevensie," he said and with a friendly gesture he offered her to sit. "We'll make it quick, though; I have a few more appointments with other parents before we close the school for the holidays."

"That's alright," said Helen. "I can't wait to see the boys, anyway."

Headmaster Collins smiled. "Well, there's really not too much I want to talk about, just a little update on how Edmund has adjusted to our establishment. And while we're at it I might as well tell you that, yet again, your Peter has exceeded expectations on pretty much every subject."

Helen smiled. No news on that end. "And what about Edmund?"

"Not to worry about," said Collins with a fond smile. "He's adjusted himself quite well. However, I was going to ask you if you could have Peter give him a bit of tutoring over the holidays. He needs to improve on some subjects, mainly sciences. I put that down to him having joined us in midterm – he missed some of the basics which were taught at the beginning. But he should be alright with a little assistance from his brother."

Helen nodded. Peter would be delighted if he could help his younger brother. "Anything else I should know? He's behaved, hasn't he?"

"I've got nothing to complain about," said Collins. He kneaded his chin thoughtfully and added, "But come to think about it, there has been an incident involving Peter ... to be honest, we noticed that he has changed a bit since last term."

"Changed? How?" Helen was surprised. From her point of view Peter had not shown any changes at all.

Collins considered his next words for a moment, as if unsure about how to explain. "He's become a little ... _bossy_ towards the other boys. Nothing really to be concerned about, I should say; it's not too unusual at his age. But he isn't quite as popular as he used to be. And last week, his history teacher reported that Peter was in an argument which very nearly ended in a fist fight in the schoolyard."

"But it didn't?"

"No, thanks to your Edmund, obviously. I've been told that he managed to hold his brother back from lashing out at the other boy."

"That doesn't sound like Peter at all," Helen mused, looking down at her folded hands as she thought it through. After a while, though, she looked up and her eyes met Collins'. "Do you want me to talk to him about that?"

"Not necessarily. I'm almost sure that we can just put it down to puberty-induced moodiness. I just wanted you to know."

Helen nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Collins." She stole a look at the clock behind his desk. "When can I see the boys?"

Checking his wristwatch, the headmaster replied, "Their last lesson should be over in a few minutes. We asked all the boys to get packed in time so they should be ready to leave as soon as they've fetched their suitcases from the dormitories. But if you're not too much in a hurry you can all eat in the canteen and catch a later train back to London."

Getting up from her seat, Helen thanked him and left his office. Sure enough the school bell rang only minutes later. Soon the whole place was charged by boys of all ages ranging from eleven to eighteen, their school uniforms in complete disarray already.

Helen was about to ask for directions to the dorms when she heard two familiar voices shouting out at the same time. "Mum!"

She turned around to see two bright faces beaming at her among the crowd. Soon her sons had elbowed their way through. Somehow, Edmund had managed to get to her first, grinning broadly. She noticed at once how well and very healthy he was looking. He was also noticeably taller than in autumn. Amused, she noted that his shirt sleeves were rolled up and the top button was undone, his tie stuffed carelessly into his pocket.

He threw his arms around her in a manner she was not used to and held on to her. Only seconds later, Peter had reached them, blond hair all mussed up. Playfully, he tried to push his brother away from their mother for a hug of his own, but Edmund was not yet done; he fended Peter off successfully by simply stomping on his foot, none too gently. Laughing, Peter retreated and waited until Helen was free to greet him as well.

A short while later they were all seated in the crowded canteen between others students and their parents. Both boys had welcomed Helen's suggestion of having lunch before getting on the train, and they wasted no time tucking into their food. Helen watched them contently while listening to story after story about what had happened during the term, including who had won which sports competition (Peter's name was coming up on a regular basis).

"Hang on," said Edmund after all while. "There's Louis over there, I still have his maths notes. I'll better hand those back to him before he leaves." And off he went.

Helen watched him go, thinking about how much he had changed yet again since starting boarding school. Not only did seem so much more energetic than mere months before, but he was finally her Edmund again, not the quiet, serious, withdrawn boy from early autumn and – thank God – not the sullen, argumentative child he had been before going to the countryside. He was as happy and humorous as she remembered him being in his first school years. It was a relief to see him like this again.

"That's going to take a while," said Peter, laying his hand on his mother's forearm. "I won't complain, though. That Louis is quite a decent chap, and it seems like he's become rather fond of Ed. Gives me little time having you to myself." He smiled warmly at her.

Laying her other hand on Peter's in turn, Helen smiled back. "Seems I've made the right decision sending your brother here, too."

"Definitely," Peter agreed. "I've not seen him so happy since ... since at the Professor's."

Helen wondered about the hesitation in Peter's words, but decided not to dig into it the topic. Instead she asked, "Is he keeping up?"

Peter raised an eyebrow at the question. "Headmaster Collins said the other day that he had phoned you to come up here and have a talk with him. Hasn't he told you?"

Helen nodded. "Yes, he said that Edmund might need a little tutoring to close some gaps in sciences. You will help him there, won't you, Peter dear?"

"Of course!"

"And how about the all the sports competition?"

Peter snorted out a little laugh. "Oh, it took him some getting used to all the training, as to be expected – but I shouldn't wonder if he'll be among the top five of his class by the end of the summer term. Besides, in case you hadn't noticed, he's worked up quite an appetite over it." He grinned broadly.

Helen had noticed. She had to admit that, after all, Dr. Johnson had been right about with his assumption. "How about you, then? Everything alright? Mister Collins mentioned something about a fight –"

Peter sighed, eyes downcast. "I'm not proud of it," he admitted. "It never got that far, though. Thanks to Ed. He quite honestly held me back from throwing a punch at the other chap."

"But Peter – why would you? It doesn't sound like you."

"I, well, I –" But before Peter could say anything else, he was interrupted by his younger brother who had returned. Whatever Peter had been trying to say would have to wait. He wasn't going to elaborate, not here, and certainly not in front of Edmund. Helen made a mental note to come back to it later – with the holidays just beginning, she knew that would be time for it.

As they walked down to the train station half an hour later, Helen kept behind the two, watching them contentedly. It made her happy to witness how easily they chatted with each other. Every now and then one nudged the other, making him stumble sideward a bit, only to have him nudge back.

The unpleasant times, when almost every conversation between Helen's boys quickly dissolved into an argument, seemed a long time ago and she would soon start to forget them.

XXX

 **Author's notes:** I came up with the idea for this when I was watching the very beginning of LWW, where they all ran into the shelter and Edmund was disobidient (running back into the house) and while Peter reprimanded him afterwards his mother did not. It brought up the idea that maybe she can't bring herself to be angry with her son however naughty he is being.

My guess is that Helen loves her children so dearly she finds it hard to be angry with them at all and Edmund kind of takes advantage of it although I think he doesn't really mean to; it's just because his mother lets him ... I also think that Helen may have a tendency to coddle him a little too much, not realising how it makes his life more difficult instead of easier as he gets older ...

Concerning the cildren's time in Narnia, I've read quite a few fics in which they return as kind of grown-ups in children's bodies. I find the thought somewhat queer and therefore came up with the interpretation that once they're back in England they feel like Narnia has just been a dream that they have dreamt. So while they do remember what has happened it is in a more distant, unreal kind of way ... and they feel like they are children again. Of course, everything (memories and fighting skill etc.) will come back to them once they are back in Narnia

Let me know what you think!

Cheers,

Coopergirl


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